Chapter 53 Cillian
Chapter Fifty-Three
CILLIAN
On the way to the airfield to take Liam’s private jet, Dare sits in the front seat, and I’m overjoyed that I get to sit in the back with Isla.
I put a hand high up on her thigh.
She’s wearing these loose shorts she got from the department store to be comfy, and I could slide my fingers right up them.
It’s a long drive, after all.
“Where are we even going?” Isla asks, grumpy because she had to get up before daylight.
My night owl baby.
I squeeze her thigh. “It’s a surprise, but it’s a long flight, so you can get some sleep.”
“It’s a long drive too,” Dare mutters.
He’s grumpy for a different reason–it's not time for his pain meds yet, and he’s hurting.
Though I’m in pain too, my pain is more manageable.
I just have to not laugh and not make sudden movements, and I can go without the strong pain medication Sam gave us.
I’ll just stick to the antibiotics and some Tylenol, thank you.
That being said, Liam's a bear about the schedule, and for good reason. We’ve seen too many of our clansmen get addicted to that shit.
Isla leans forward and puts her hand on Dare’s shoulder. “Are you in pain?”
“Do bears shit in the woods?” he snaps, and when her face falls, instant regret spreads across his features. “I’m sorry, a ghrá. It just hurts.”
“It'll get better," she says gently.
“Sure, it will.” I smile at her. “We could play cards on the flight, keep your mind off it. You’ve got a terrible poker face, though, Dare.”
Dare chuckles, softening.
Liam slides him his medication, just a few moments early, and Dare sighs, swallowing them dry.
I’m excited about surprising both Isla and Dare. “We’ll see the sights first thing. We can visit museums and—”
I realize that Isla’s staring at me with wide, hazel eyes.
I frown. “What?”
She blinks. “I just think this is the most you’ve ever talked to me.”
“It’s the most he’s ever talked in his life,” Liam says, tone bemused.
I shrug. “Maybe strong and silent isn’t the only way to be.”
I slide my hand further up her thigh, wetting my lips.
“Cill, what are you doing?” Isla asks, but she spreads her thighs instinctively.
“Just thought I’d make the drive more interesting, mo chuisle.”
I walk my fingers under her shorts, sliding the loose fabric aside, and then I’m trailing my fingers through her wet heat.
Isla moans, spreading her legs further, panting slightly.
“She’s like a dog in heat,” Dare murmurs, adjusting the rearview mirror to look back at us without hurting his incision.
“It’s the hormones,” Isla says defensively.
“I don't care what it is; I love it.” I pull her over with my other hand, kissing her roughly as I slide one finger inside her.
She writhes, impatient. “Two fingers, Cill, please.”
I tsk. “Ordering me around, mo chuisle?”
“N-no.”
I stop moving my finger, just arching it up to hit her g-spot.
“Please don’t stop.”
“Apologize,” Liam orders, and Isla moans loudly.
“I'm s-sorry, Cill. Please.”
I slide two fingers inside her, arching them up while I pump them in and out, and she throws her head back against the headrest, whining.
She rolls her hips to meet my fingers, and she whispers my name when she comes around them. It makes my chest swell with pride.
We’re pulling up to the airfield, so I slip my fingers out of her, popping them into my mouth.
I make eye contact with Isla as I suck them.
“Jesus Christ, Cill. You’re different than before.”
“Aye. You make me different.” I kiss her again, as passionately as I can, and when she whimpers into my mouth, I pull away.
“You tease.”
I grin. “I live to tease you.”
“Stop flirting before I get jealous,” Dare says, but he’s smiling, too.
Maybe everything will be okay. Maybe we can really do this.
Leaving home is hard for me. Leaving Ronan is even harder. But he barely remembers who I am, and soon he won’t remember who he is.
It’s a terrible way to go, but Ronan has never been a good man or a good father. I know that now. Meeting Isla changed things for me.
I’m no longer just Ronan’s weapon. I’m somebody who can wash the blood off his hands.
I’m somebody who can be a good lover to her, a good father to our child.
I’m somebody now. And I can be anybody I want to be.
We arrive at the airfield, and Isla stares at the jet in awe.
Liam grins, clearly proud that Isla’s impressed.
He pops open a bottle of champagne once we board the flight, and Isla pouts.
“That's just mean; you know I can’t have any.”
“That’s why I got sparkling cider for you, mo chroí.”
He pours cider into a champagne flute and hands it to her, pouring himself some cider, too.
“You’re not drinking?”
Liam blanches.
Dare and I chuckle, knowing how drunk he got the day she was kidnapped and how he hasn’t wanted to touch the stuff since.
She narrows her eyes. “Is this an inside joke? Because I demand to be part of all inside jokes from now on.”
Liam looks at us desperately, as if begging us not to tell, but I know Dare will anyway. He can’t help himself.
“Liam got shitfaced after we found out you were pregnant,” Dare blurts out, and Liam groans, covering his face with one hand.
Her eyes widen. “Liam? I can’t even imagine him drunk.”
“Guys,” Liam mutters, still not looking at us. “Stop.”
“Absolutely not,” Dare says cheerfully. “All he could talk about is you, Isla. Just babbling about how much he—”
Liam claps his hand over Dare’s mouth.
Dare laughs, the sound muffled by Liam’s hand.
Isla grins slyly. “Oh? You’ll have to tell me more.”
“Not on my watch,” Liam mutters and finally moves away from Dare.
But Dare doesn’t push it, and I think that's for the best. Out of all of us, Liam took the longest time to accept his feelings for Isla.
Liam finally relaxes, sipping his cider while Dare is relegated to one glass since alcohol and painkillers don’t mix.
I have a glass of cider myself, chatting with Isla.
Liam and Dare just look at us, bemused, maybe a little jealous.
But I don’t care. Jealousy happens; it’s a human emotion. What matters is that we have Isla, and she makes us all happy. She makes us all better men.
But leaving the life will be difficult, especially for me. It’s hard to know who I am without it, since as long as I can remember, I’ve been nothing more than a weapon.